“If they’ve come back,” Keegan said slowly, shaking his head, “then something woke them. Something strong enough to rouse what was meant to stay buried, and it seems few even know about them.”
“Like the shadows outside.” I rubbed my arms, trying to shake the chill.
He looked up sharply.
My heart skipped. Gideon. Malore. The voice.
“Keegan…” My words caught. “Do you think the mushrooms are connected to the curse Malore let loose?”
His jaw flexed, eyes darkening. “I think everything is connected to Malore. He doesn’t want the ancient rites thriving again or the Hunger Path choosing its own way.”
For a long moment, we sat in silence. The weight of his words pressed down on both of us.
Finally, he let out a breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So. Magic mushrooms that make witches hear voices. You bring me the best bedtime stories, Maeve.”
I chuckled weakly. “Sorry. Next time I’ll stick to fairy tales.”
“Mm.” He reached for my hand, his fingers curling warm around mine. “You’re my favorite fairy tale. Even if you do drag home cursed fungi.”
My laugh shook, but it was real. I leaned closer, resting my forehead briefly against his. “I just… needed you to know.”
“I’m glad you told me.” His voice softened, low and steady. “Even if we don’t have answers yet.”
His hand squeezed mine, grounding me. For a moment, the mushrooms, the shadows, the voice, all of it fell away, leaving only us in the quiet glow of the fire.
But beneath it, the worry lingered.
Because if Keegan had never heard of the Sillipa Groves, and Nova thought them gone for decades… then why now? Why here?
And why me?
Chapter Eight
The first thing I felt was warmth.
Keegan’s arm curved heavily around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, the steady rhythm of his breath stirring the loose strands of my hair. For a blissful moment, I let myself sink into it, eyes still closed, the familiar safety of his embrace shielding me from everything else.
But then the light filtered through.
Or rather, what little of it there was.
I cracked one eye open to find the drapes glowing faintly with a pale gray, no brighter than a washed-out dawn. The morning should have been filled with golden beams, with birds chirping, and with the cheerful hum of summer settling over Stonewick. Instead, the sky outside the drapes swirled dark, clouds pressing so thick and low it looked more like October than July.
A sigh slipped from me before I could stop it. It didn’t feel like summer at all. The air was too heavy, the light too thin.
The gloom was so constant that I half expected to see pumpkins rolling down the sidewalks and Stella handing out spiced cider instead of iced tea. We might as well skip the sunshine season altogether and admit autumn had claimed us early.
But it was the shadows.
I shifted carefully in Keegan’s hold, not wanting to wake him, but his grip tightened instinctively, drawing me closer. His breath brushed my ear as he murmured something half-dreamed, and my heart tugged, soft and aching.
Still, the unease wouldn’t leave me.
My thoughts circled back, as they had all night, to the mushrooms. The way they glowed, the way the spores seemed to sink under my skin, twisting what I feared most into something so real I could feel it in my bones.
Nova hadn’t lied. I didn’t believe she could. Not about this. But no matter how carefully she explained the Sillipa, no matter how rational her voice had sounded, I couldn’t shake the truth in my chest.
It hadn’t just been spores.
